


A New Path // Nygmobblepot

by ninaloveshiddles



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: 2x9, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexual Edward Nygma, Biting, Bottom Oswald Cobblepot, Boys Kissing, Canon Dialogue, Caretaking, Character Bleed, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Dominance, Dry Humping, Episode Related, Erections, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Frottage, Fucking, Gay Sex, Grinding, Gunshot Wounds, Inappropriate Erections, Licking, M/M, Marking, Missionary Position, Moaning, Mutual Pining, Naughty, Nipple Licking, Nygmobblepot, Porn, Rimming, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Season 2, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Some Plot, Top Edward Nygma, Undressing, penguin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23775601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninaloveshiddles/pseuds/ninaloveshiddles
Summary: Based on Season 2 Episode 9. Ed has been caring for Oswald after finding him injured in the woods. He sees Oswald for the inspiring criminal he is, but Oswald is reluctant, content to wallow. While caring for Oswald, the two come to an understanding...and a mutual attraction.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot & Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 6
Kudos: 119





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If your're just here for the smut, skip to chapter 2 ;)  
> My first Nygmobblepot contribution. I'm always open to prompts.

_Well this has certainly not panned out the way I anticipated_. Edward Nygma struggles with pulling the wooden chair that’s attached to Leonard. He had hoped Mr. Penguin would be thrilled to take his revenge on an employee of Galavan. Unfortunately, it seems the mythic crime boss has lost all will; which doesn’t bode well for Ed’s _new path_.

He hadn’t expected for the Penguin to show up again in his life. He had been in awe of him since that day he spotted him at the GCPD. Such confidence and presence for a man of his petite frame. Power and control were qualities that Ed had come to value and respect, and Mr. Penguin’s reputation had proceeded him in the most fantastic and grisly ways. After the shorter man’s dismissal, Ed had resigned himself to never seeing this interesting specimen again; that is until a few nights ago. He had simply been looking for the poor soul who stole his sandwich out in the woods…and who clearly saw too much to be allowed to continue living.

Seeing a bloodied and weak Penguin was far beyond his expectations for that evening. But with the desperate mutterings of “Help me, please,” a plan had begun to form in Edward Nygma’s mind. This man could be the key to Ed becoming who he was truly meant to be. He had tirelessly cared for the injured man; washing him, clothing him, feeding him, dressing his wounds. But sadly it seemed that his meticulous care and planning would find no fruition.

However, that was not the only thing keeping Ed Nygma in distress. There was something about this new feathered friend being in his apartment that intrigued him. Ever since the incident with Ms. Kringle, Ed’s two psyches had seemed more in sync with each other; and both seemed to find Mr. Penguin rather compelling. Not in a sexual way mind you; of course not. It would be much too soon to have feelings like that after recently murdering the ‘love of his life.’ Not to mention he had only been attracted to females before. _You got laid once loser,_ his more assertive side had argued _, how could you possibly know what you like?_ So what if Ed had snuck a glance or two while undressing the man? And so what if he had maybe allowed his fingers to linger longer than needed as he wrapped the man’s chest. And sure, maybe he caught himself staring as the Penguin slept peacefully in _his_ bed, full pink lips parted slightly as a soft snore or two escaped.

Ed huffs in frustration, scooting the chair another foot across the floor, pausing for a moment at the sound of Penguin beneath the comforter. He listens intently, attempting to make out the tune that the man seemed to be humming. A small smile begins to break from Ed’s lips; _now there’s an idea._

_………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………_

Oswald Cobblepot groans to himself, nuzzling deeper into the pillow. The Nygma man was disturbing his grieving process. Oswald knows what he said in that forest. He knows that he asked for help. But now he realizes he would have been content to die. To dissipate from the world as he knew it, break free from the lingering pain that wrapped its cold fingers around his heart. But Edward Nygma refused to let him fade away. From the moment he first woke up in this shoddy apartment, “Hello, sleepyhead,” the younger man had greeted. His wide, almost cartoonishly large, smile and deep brown eyes. The young man talked about being a killer; even sounded like one with his gruff and authoritative voice coming out of that maniacal smile…but his eyes. They didn’t look like a killer’s eyes; in fact, that’s what made Oswald the most nervous. The man had been nothing but attentive. Sitting just a little too close in the bed. Forcing Oswald to drink fluids, pressing him to eat, refusing to leave him alone in despair. Damn it, if Oswald wanted to wallow, he should be able to! And then bringing Galavan’s lackey? Well Oswald refused to give Nygma the reaction he was seeking.

He could tell this man meant him no harm. But that left a nagging question to an ever suspicious and tired Oswald. What could he possibly want then, really? There were plenty of psychopaths in Gotham to lead him along his fabled “new path.” Why had he chosen Oswald? The older man groaned again, flipping over in bed to face the door to the bathroom. It was cracked open, a hazy light spilling through to reveal…oh yes, _that._ The other reason Edward Nygma’s presence disturbed him. In the crack in the doorway, just big enough to possibly be intentional, Oswald could clearly see the nude form of the taller man. Oswald wanted to look away, to roll his eyes like always and go back to sleep. But he couldn’t tear his gaze from the door.

Edward Nygma was tall and lean, but his thinness did not mean a lack of muscle. Long hard limbs stretched for miles. His physique seemed to be carved deliciously, sculpting into a round, lifted ass. Not to mention his member, long and hanging between his legs. Oswald shifted uncomfortably, his heart stilling as a rare sensation stiffened under his thin pajama pants. _Stop it. You’re grieving, you idiot._ Oswald shouldn’t be considering this. His mother just died, and it’s not like his interest had ever been piqued by anyone before. Why should this lanky nerd of a man be any different? Still, Oswald watches a second longer before forcing himself to get more rest.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

“Nothing will warm me more, than my, my mother’s love. I light another candle dry the tears from my face,” Ed sings softly, his long fingers playing the piano in time with his gramophone. He can hear Penguin stirring behind him, but doesn’t look back until he speaks.

“Why are you playing this song?” an accusing voice finally sounds. Ed looks back, but is startled by the clench he feels in his chest. The man in bed has tears in his large eyes, exacerbating the dull blue. His eyes are shining in the dim light, his face looking open and vulnerable. _He looks…pretty._

“I can bring tears to your eyes and resurrect the dead. I form in an instant and last a lifetime. What am I?” Ed asks with an expectant smile. To his shock and delight, Penguin not only plays along, but answers almost immediately.

“A memory. So what?” he sniffles. Ed notices how Penguin’s thick shock of black hair is now tousled; and he wonders how it might feel gripped between his fingers. _Stop. That’s inappropriate and pervy._

“You were humming this under your covers. I figure this has meaning for you.” He watches as Penguin releases a sad chuckle, his full lips parting and closing as he tries to form a response.

“Every night when I was young, my mother would sing that song to me when I was going to bed.” Ed stands and slowly walks over to the bed and sits, refusing to interrupt. “And every time she would tell me, ‘Oswald, don’t listen to the other children. You are handsome, and clever, and someday you will be a great man.’” Penguin smiles at this; an infectious and longing expression that spreads its way to Ed’s own countenance. “But that’s all I have left. Memories. And they’re like daggers in my heart.” The pain in the man’s voice perturbs Edward for a moment, but then he picks up Ms. Kringle’s glasses off of his nightstand.

“These were Ms. Kringle’s,” he explains. “But when I look at these now, I just feel gratitude. Do you know why?”

“No,” Penguin snaps. “And I don’t care. This visit is over.” He gets up off the bed and begins to limp across the floor. Ed’s eyebrows furrow and he can feel a snarl begin to form across his upper lip. _The little bird is not going anywhere_.

“Mr. Penguin,” Ed begins through gritted teeth, getting up to block Penguin’s path. “For some men, love is a source of strength. But for you and I it will always be our most crippling weakness.” How hadn’t he noticed just how much he towers over the man before him? And it was almost endearing to see Penguin have to look up at him, still behaving as though he was the biggest man in the room.

“Move aside, Ed,” Penguin says caustically. This takes Ed by surprise, if only for a second. He realizes this is the first time Penguin has called him by his name.

“We are better off unencumbered.” Ed’s biting out his words now, and he can’t help but notice his speech pattern. _We. Our. You and I._ Is he projecting, or is it possible he identifies in Mr. Penguin a type of kindred spirit?

“What did you say?” Mr. Penguin is shaking now, and Ed swears he can feel the intensity radiating from his compact frame.

“You said it yourself. Your mother is dead, because of your weakness.” Ed pauses for a moment, wondering if he dare continue. The flame of a killer begins to kindle behind the Penguin’s eyes, but Ed isn’t intimidated. He feels drawn to it, a moth diving into a flame. “But what you need to realize is that your weakness, was her.” Ed feels powerful, knowing that he’ll illicit a reaction. What he doesn’t quite expect is for the little bird to move so quickly. The Penguin spins and swipes a knife off of the table, pressing it dangerously close to Ed’s jugular.

“My mother was a saint,” he spits, his nose wrinkled in disdain. “And I have nothing left,” he falters. Ed knows that Penguin is unhinged, not necessarily sane. But neither is he. And the feeling of smooth metal denting into his throat, of seeing rage this close up, of being able to count the freckles splayed across the shorter man’s nose; well it makes his pants begin to tent in a very uncomfortable way.

“A man with nothing that he loves, is a man that cannot be bargained. Betrayed. Answers to no one but himself,” he begins, refusing to break eye contact with the icy blue gaze penetrating his psyche. “And that is the man I see before me,” he ends forcefully. Ed feels a fire bubbling up in his core, an excitement aroused by Penguin’s newly found spark. He did that. He brought the little bird back from the depths of melancholy and absence. The shorter man is trembling, and Ed realizes that he’s holding onto his shirt tightly, refusing to let go. He wants to move backwards, if only to disguise the fact that he now has a definite erection. Ed instead slowly takes the blade from Penguin and clicks it back into place, his movements controlled and direct. _Best to not make enemies of each other._

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Ed sits on the couch quietly, patiently waiting for Penguin to collect himself. The shorter man had been sitting at the kitchen table, absentmindedly sipping a cup of tea. Maybe he was still grieving, that was to be expected. But only a few hours after their confrontation and Ed can visibly see the man sit up a little straighter, his pale cheeks showing a hint of color, his weepy eyes now dry. _You devious bastard, you got through to him._

Oswald fiddled with the mug, enjoying the warmth seeping from the ceramic into his finger tips. Nygma was right. He is a free man; invincible now to the horrors of Gotham. He sits and contemplates his next move, forms various plots, all while sneaking glances at the tall man who had gripped him tight and pulled him back from the brink. Nygma made Oswald feel like himself again, he made him feel powerful and dangerous, like he is meant to be. A small part of him knows that he owes him, that perhaps he is indebted to Nygma and should actively participate in the man’s new murderous path.

Oswald stands up and limps over to the couch where Ed is pretending to work on a crossword puzzle. Ed looks up over his glasses, brown eyes wide like an expectant puppy dog. _Oh those sweet eyes are deceiving,_ Oswald muses.

“Mr. Nygma-”

“Ed, please.”

“I just wanted to formally thank you. You saw the spark that was still somewhere inside me, and though I fought it, you didn’t rest till it was lit again. I do believe you’ve earned the title of my friend.”

“Mr. Penguin-”

“In light of the circumstances, I suppose I’ll allow you to call me Oswald.” Ed smirks at the shorter man’s words. So formal, so willing to indulge in a heightened sense of self.

“It was an honor. Really. I’m truly thrilled to see you back to your old self.” The two men smile at each other, warm and genuine, if only for a moment.

“And thank you for being so kind as to let me use your bed. But I think it would be dreadful etiquette for me to continue on in that manner.”

“It’s honestly not an issue. This couch is old and cheap and would probably do more harm than good to you. It’s no trouble.” Ed can tell the shorter man is evaluating him, taking a moment to compose his thoughts.

“Your bed is plenty big enough if you wished to return to it,” Oswald offered, trying to gauge the taller man’s reaction. This earned some raised eyebrows, but an otherwise genuine and open demeanor. “If the couch is as terrible as you say, perhaps it’s time for you to come back to your bed.” Edward grinned at this, a face splitting grin that was all teeth and made the sides of his eyes crinkle.

“If you insist…Oswald.”


	2. Smut Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens after they go to bed?

The men find themselves on opposite sides of the mattress as they ready for bed. Backs turned to one another, _mostly_ unaware that the other was sneaking glances. Oswald feels his chest begin to warm as he turns to see Ed’s muscular back; smooth skin leading down to his flannel pajamas hanging just a little lower than they were supposed to.

Ed glances back once fully clothed, only to see Oswald working on his pants, his bare ass, pale and round, exposed. Ed can’t deny that he that he had a surprising urge to bite it. He notices Oswald reach for his shirt and cleared his throat to draw his attention.

“Don’t put your shirt on just yet.” Oswald stills, his eyes looking suspicious. “I need to check the wound,” Ed clarifies. Oswald huffs and rolls his eyes but ultimately allows the taller man to unwrap him. Ed forces himself to breathe naturally as he peels away the gauze to expose Oswald’s bare torso. He has seen it before of course, but never when the man was awake. Never this intimately. His long fingers gently brush over the wound, pleased that it’s healing. It is still tender, but no longer actively bleeding. It would take a bit of strenuous activity for the wound to reopen. A thought that Ed banishes to the back of his brain for now.

Oswald holds his breath, not used to his bare body being under scrutiny. He bites his lower lip as Edward’s face is merely inches from his body as he inspects the wound. Oswald can smell his mint toothpaste, the sweet smell of his conditioner. He fight the urge to inhale deeply, to allow the scent to flood his senses. The taller man rewraps him, his fingertips brushing lightly against Oswald’s pink nipples as he adjusts the gauze. The light touches, which almost seemed intentional, send light electrical pulses down the shorter man’s body. It makes his skin prickle and he hopes that Ed doesn’t notice his entire torso had broken out in goose flesh.

“There, nearly good as new,” Ed decides, his hand lingering on Oswald’s wrappings. He can feel the little bird’s rapid heartbeat, and it makes his cock twitch. He likes the way Oswald’s breath hitches each time he touches a nipple. He likes how he can feel Oswald’s eyes on him as he takes care of him, how he can sense the heat and heaviness behind that icy blue stare. “Bed time,” he concludes in a chipper tone.

The two men lay in bed, cloaked in the darkness of the room. Ed lays perfectly still on his back, licking his lips nervously. The new him, the one he knows he is destined to be, wants nothing more than to explore the little bird’s body. He can’t deny it any longer, Oswald Cobblepot is a puzzle he wants to solve; he wants to decipher the feel, the taste, the smell. Since he brought him here his body has been urging him, fiery and desperate, to take Oswald for himself. He wants to possess him; to see the King of Gotham vulnerable and wanton. Unfortunately, the old Ed, ever nervous and shy and woefully inexperienced, keeps Edward Nygma frozen to his position on the mattress.

Oswald relishes in the darkness, thankful that Ed can’t see how hot and red his skin has become. His cheeks burn with the knowledge that someone so handsome, yes he admits it, was only a foot away from him. His mind uncharacteristically driftes, musing that the only thing truly separating them is a space in the darkness and very thin pajamas. The thought alone is enough to make his lower half begin to tremble with…desire? Has Oswald ever truly felt desire?

Edward Nygma continues to war with himself. _Just roll over and pin him down; take him the way you want him. Are you out of your mind? Maybe. This is ridiculous, we don’t even know if he’d like that. Oh, he’d like me._ Edward groans softly in frustration, the sound causing Oswald to tilt his head in Ed’s direction. He sees Ed’s head is thrown back, his Adam’s apple prominent.

“Everything alright?” he asks, his voice cracking. His body is all nerves and his chest feels tights as all the blood rushes from his blushing face and into his now semi hard cock.

“Fine,” Edward manages. _Just arguing with myself._ “A bout of insomnia I suppose.” He glances over to the shorter man, his eyes finally adjusting to the darkness. He watches the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers fidget at his side. The way the blanket tents over his crotch… _wait. What has two heads, and both are hard? Okay, that’s not even a good riddle._ _Oswald Cobblepot._ Ed grins to himself, his skin tingling as he feels himself growing hard. _Don’t you dare_ , was the only response the old Ed could conjure up. And it is going to be reverently ignored.

Ed slips his hands beneath the covers and slowly extends his long arm out towards Oswald. He easily breaches the space, his fingers brushing against the shorter man’s hips. He can hear Oswald inhale sharply, and it makes Ed smirk. He slowly slides his hand up Oswald’s thigh and palms gently at his crotch. Ed lets out a shuddered breath, reveling in the fact that Oswald is fully erect.

“What on Earth are you doing?” Oswald snaps, but he makes no effort to move away from Ed’s touch. Ed doesn’t respond, but instead runs a long finger down the length of the shorter man’s cock. An almost undetectable whimper escapes Oswald’s lips, and it lights a fire deep inside Ed’s belly.

“You don’t like it?” Ed asks innocently.

“No,” he lies, not believing his own words. Having Edward Nygma fondling him in the darkness, a relative stranger…well it was wildly inappropriate, and dirty, and sexy. But Oswald doesn’t want to give into the temptation, he is the King of Gotham and shouldn’t be so easily swayed by a handsome young man with a blooming taste for murder.

“Then tell me to stop,” Ed challenges, his voice deep and raspy. Penguin wrinkles his nose, but can’t will himself to let the touching end. “That’s what I thought. Oh little bird, you are mine.” Oswald gasps, that will _not_ do. He grips Edward’s wrist and rolls quickly on top of the taller man, straddling him. Ed grunts in surprise, forgetting how fast, even with a bad leg, the shorter man can move. Oswald grips both of Ed’s wrists and pins them to the pillows above his head.

“If you want to dominate me, you’re going to have to work for it, friend,” Oswald whispers dangerously, hoping Ed will accept the challenge. Oswald is aware of Ed’s erection rubbing deliciously against his own. He keeps Ed’s wrists pinned and begins grinding their cocks together, rolling his hips to the best of his abilities. It’s awkward and stiff, but the low moan escaping from Ed’s glistening parted lips encourages Oswald.

Ed wants to be in control, wants to see this little bird naked and squirming beneath him. But at the moment, he can’t bring himself to stop Oswald’s movement, desperate for the friction he’s providing. The shorter man is stronger than he appears, his small hands actually causing Ed’s wrists to ache. Ed eyes Oswald hungrily, the shorter man tossing his head back as he bucks himself against Ed’s throbbing cock.

“Or maybe, you’re just content to let me hump you. Content to let me use you for my pleasure,” Oswald teases. He’s never spoken like this before, the heat of the moment washing over him and controlling his words. Ed leans in and captures Oswald’s mouth in a heated kiss, sucking violently on his bottom lip. The shorter man can’t help but moan loudly, the sound echoing through the apartment. Ed takes the opportunity to slip his tongue through Oswald’s lips, desperately conquering every inch, leading the shorter man to distraction. His grip loosens just slightly. Ed emits a throaty growl and breaks free, digging his fingers into the man’s bony hips. He nearly slams Oswald down into the mattress as he rolls on top of him, allowing his full weight to pin him.

“I think not, Mr. Cobblepot. I’m in charge here,” he says with a smile, offering a light tsk tsk. Oswald quivers beneath him, unable to move under the taller man’s weight. “And since I’m in charge,” he begins, slowly unbuttoning the shorter man’s sleep shirt, “I’m going to tell you exactly how this is going to happen.” Oswald attempts to move again, but only succeeds in rubbing his painfully hard cock against Ed’s ass. Ed leans down to kiss a now exposed nipple, flicking it mischievously with his tongue. Ed scrapes his teeth along the soft pale skin of Oswald’s clavicle, scorching the skin, but careful to avoid his bandages. “You see, I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to fold you in half, and bury myself so deep inside you that you’ll be feeling me for days.” Oswald lets out a high whine, forgetting to fight back as he’s entranced by Ed’s filthy words.

“Ed-” he begins, his lips swollen and red from Ed’s vicious bites.

“I’m not done,” he taunts, grinding his ass harshly against Oswald’s erection. “And you’re going to let me cum inside you as you cum all over yourself. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Cobblepot?” Oswald takes a few moments, fighting the urge to answer. But he can’t. He wants it, craves it. He wants to feel Ed’s length split him wide open. He’s been in charge for so long, he’s forgotten what it feels like to be at someone’s mercy. Ed lunges forward, wrapping a hand around Oswald’s throat, his lips brushing against the shorter man’s as he speaks. “Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?” Ed is intoxicated with the power he’s holding over Oswald. He wants to control him, wants to hear him scream because Ed is doing such a marvelous job of fucking him.

“Yes sir,” Oswald hisses, gripping Ed’s wrist with renewed force. He rips the taller man’s hand off his throat. “But don’t you fucking try that shit again.” It’s the first time Ed has ever heard Oswald cuss, and it sends a cold chill up his spine. _No choking; fair, all things considered._

“Excellent,” Ed hums with delight. He leans down to capture Oswald’s lips, their tongues sparring in a clash of spit and clacking teeth. Oswald gives a harsh bite to Ed’s bottom lip, the sensation traveling directly to Ed’s aching balls. _Little brat._ Ed fists his fingers into Oswald’s thick black hair and pulls his head back in punishment. Oswald moans loudly, the vibrations felt on Ed’s lips as he kisses his throat, leaving dark purple marks in his wake. Oswald’s toes are curling and he can feel himself leaking pre cum. He’s tired of waiting.

“Are you going to get on with it?” His voice sounds far needier than intended, and it makes Ed chuckle. The taller man pulls off his own shirt in a flash, throwing it carelessly to the floor. Oswald quickly sits up, pressing his hands to Ed’s smooth torso, desperate to explore his body. Ed allows this, rather enjoying the worshipful quality of Oswald’s wandering fingers, hissing in pleasure as he experimentally pinches a nipple.

“Take off your pants, little bird,” Ed commands. Oswald immediately obeys, laying back down to shimmy out of his pants. Ed follows suit and then grabs the pajama bottoms from around Oswald’s ankles to dispose of them on the floor. The two men survey each other’s nakedness in lascivious appreciation. Oswald’s cock is thicker than Ed’s, standing straight up, while Ed’s is long and imposing. Ed crawls across the bed to retrieve a jar of Vaseline from his nightstand; it’s not lube but it will have to do. “Hike your legs up and spread your cheeks for me.”

Oswald complies, spreading himself to reveal his small pink hole. Ed moans softly, taking a moment to stroke himself to the scene before him. Oswald exposed, looking so wanton…like a little whore. He almost doesn’t register that Oswald has said something, his eyes pinched closed.

“Touch me,” Oswald repeats, his voice breathy and thin. Ed smirks and unscrews the cap, plunging his index finger into the Vaseline. He gets down on his stomach, his hot breath tickling at Oswald’s entrance. He gives an experimental lick before performing tantalizing circles. “Edward,” Oswald breathes, his body visibly tightening in excitement. Ed finishes slicking up the entrance and slowly inserts his index finger, meeting quite a bit of resistance.

“Oh my eager little bird, you need to relax.” He hears Oswald let out a labored sigh and tries again. This time he is able reach to the knuckle before Oswald tightens. Ed waits patiently for the man to unclench and pushes further to allow his finger to completely disappear.

“Ohhh dear,” Oswald whines. The sensation is foreign and odd, but Oswald can feel the pulses it sends through his body. He wants more. Ed carefully moves his finger in and out, easing Oswald’s muscles until he feels comfortable adding a second finger. The process is slow, and takes a bit of time, but the noises coming from Oswald more than make up for it. Every hitched breath and whine goes straight to Ed’s cock which is now leaking onto the sheets. When he finally feels that Oswald is adequately prepared, Ed’s heart is racing. He lathers Vaseline up and down the length of his cock, somehow knowing that if Oswald wasn’t enjoying himself, he’d be unable to as well. Ed, now on his knees, lines up with Oswald’s hole. He takes a moment, guiding his cock in circles, barely prodding the entrance.

“You want this big cock deep inside that tight hole of yours?” Oswald is gripping the sheets, his icy blue eyes now eclipsed with lust.

“Of course I do, now get _on_ with it.” There is a note of begging in his voice that pushes Ed’s hips forward, entering Oswald’s now puckered hole. He sinks in, deeper and deeper till his entire shaft is inside the shorter man.

“Fascinating,” he breathes. This sensation is far different from his time with Kristen. It’s tighter, and he can feel every muscle twitch going on inside of Oswald. It feels comfortable, more natural for him. _We will unpack that thought later._ He pulls out and pushes back in, testing this lazy rhythm out a few times, watching how Oswald tosses his head against the pillow.

“Edward- please. Have your way with me,” Oswald asks, all the combativeness from before completely gone. The words make Ed’s ears hot, and he grins and slams his hips against Oswald’s ass.

“Oh fuck. So tight. Oh my god you feel amazing,” Ed gasps. He pushes Oswald’s legs up to his chest and leans down so that their faces are only inches away. He begins to roll his hips, thrusting brutally. The sound of skin slapping together fills the empty spaces of the apartment, all spaciousness now replaced with a thick musky heat.

“Mmmm God! Oh my,” Oswald cries out, wrapping his arms tightly around Ed. The taller man hisses as Oswald’s nails skate viscously down his back, marring the otherwise smooth skin. Ed grunts, Oswald’s tight hole sucking him in, squeezing him mercilessly. Oswald buries his face into the crook of Ed’s neck and wraps his left leg up over the taller man’s hips, willing him in deeper.

“You’re a needy little bird aren’t you?” Ed huffs, the curls of his hair now loose and flopping across his forehead.

“Says the man who made the first move,” Oswald mumbles, his words slurred and hazy. He wants to implement his usual snark, but his head is clouded in ecstasy. Ed grins, it’s a fair point. He pulls out momentarily, mustering all his strength to slam back into Oswald, nailing his prostate. “Ah!” Ed moans with him, his balls throbbing with the sweet sensation. He’s building; he can feel it coming fast and unexpected.

“Oh fuck,” Ed whines, his confident and domineering demeanor slipping. He lifts his head to gaze into Oswald’s eyes, blue locking with brown. “Oswald...I’m close,” he pants.

“Good…me too. Make us cum, Edward.” There it is, that word _us_. That word that filled Ed with excitement, made him feel like he was a part of something other than himself. Like maybe he, _all_ parts of him, could belong somewhere.

Ed thrusts a few more times, his muscles tightening, pushing him towards release. Oswald is quivering beneath him, his head tossed back in pleasure, his beautiful pale throat vulnerable and exposed. Ed teeters on the precipice for just a moment before spiraling down, his moan more like a scream. He slumps forward, riding out his orgasm as he sinks his teeth into Oswald’s throat. The shocking pain and pleasure of it earns a high sob from the shorter man, and he comes hot and quick, his seed coating both their stomachs, reaching all the way to his bandages.

The two men cling to each other, breathing heavily as they attempt to recover. With shaky arms Ed lifts himself up, pulling out of Oswald, captivated by the sight of his orgasm spilling out of the stretched hole.

“Truly fascinating,” Ed murmurs. He looks up to Oswald who is absolutely wrecked, his chest heaving, a droopy smile splayed across his face. “Oh shit,” Ed curses. The strenuous activity has caused Oswald’s wound to reopen, a dark red splotch slowly growing, soiling the white bandages. “I’m sorry, Oswald.” The shorter man opens his eyes, and sleepily looks down at the maroon wetness.

“Well, my friend, I am certain you’ll be able to heal me again. As far as I’m concerned, it was worth it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed <3  
> I'm always open to prompts (especially being quarantined until end of May).


End file.
